


Radio Renegade

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pirate Radio AU, Sabriel - Freeform, pirate radio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester: straight-A senior with a social life that just barely keeps its head above water. Tunes into The Trickster: mysterious host of the pirate radio station Twix FM. Nothing is ever the same. (This story becomes interactive as of the second chapter)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Set the Controls

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you kindly to my beta, [edgebug](http://edgebug.tumblr.com), for helping with major plot points. To [Winnywriter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnywriter) for putting up with my constant nitpicking and idea-bouncing. To the Speight family on skype for being supportive and egging me on as I build this 'verse.  
> Chapter titles modified from songs and song lyrics. Rating will likely change.  
> A lot of this AU was heavily inspired by the movie Pump Up the Volume, and a little bit was inspired by the movie Pirate Radio (The Boat that Rocked). Please bear with me as I set out on this multi-chapter, many-thousands of words story, and I hope you enjoy the ride!

“And this is The Trickster, broadcasting live from ... well, I can’t tell you that, can I?”

 Sam had found the station purely by accident. He was searching for his usual station, 96.9 Angel FM, when the Seek button stopped him at 96.5. The signal was fairly clear, and some song that Sam recognized from when he was younger had been playing.

 Now the announcer was going on about... well, Sam wasn’t sure. He thought maybe it was Campus radio from the local university but that theory was quickly debunked. The things this guy was saying - swearing quite often, too - definitely wouldn’t have been approved. He went on about politics and religion, music and movies - anything and everything.

 Sam meant to change the station, he did, but this guy was a blast. Sam laughed often at the corny jokes and nodded his head when he agreed with The Trickster’s opinions. Particularly those about his brothers. Sam loved his own brother, Dean, but he sympathized with The Trickster’s notion that sometimes, when you’re being overshadowed, when you’re supposed to live up to the Golden Boy’s example - sometimes, the best thing to do is just ... _run_.

 So that was how it began. That was how Sam Winchester, senior in high school, straight-A Honor Roll student, captain of the debate team, became obsessed with the nightly pirate radio show on 96.5 Twix FM.

 

* * *

 

“What up, Winchester” Sam’s best friend, Andy Gallagher, greeted him the next morning. He was wearing a ridiculously oversized sweater with a wolf on the front.   
“Laundry day?” Sam returned, giving the hyperactive kid a skeptical once-over.   
Andy glanced down and shrugged. “Got out of bed late.” He followed Sam into the school, leaning against the locker next to his. “So are you going to Azi’s party tonight?”

 Sam snorted. “Totally would, but I got some courses to go to tonight.” He pulled his physics textbook from his locker and slammed it shut. “And Becky’s probably going to that party.”  
Andy shook his head. “Fucking dual credit courses, man. As if your AP classes weren’t enough.”   
“If you didn’t spend so much time trying to woo girls into that creepy-ass hippie van of yours, maybe you could be as smart as me,” Sam grinned.   
Andy punched his shoulder. “Asshat.”

Sam snorted. “You’re just jealous because I get to hang out with college chicks.”  
Andy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Sure. And that you’re not hanging out with your infinitely cooler best friend.”  
Sam reached out to clap his friend on the shoulder. “We’ll do something tomorrow. It’ll be Saturday all day.”

“Yeah, okay.” Andy didn’t seem too enthused, however.   
“Don’t sulk,” Sam said. “It’ll be fun.”   
Andy went to protest, but at that moment the bell rang and he scurried off to his locker so he wouldn’t be late.

 

* * *

 

 That afternoon, Sam found his usual seat next to Ruby, whose psychology textbook and notes were spread out wide before her. Sam definitely preferred these tables to the cramped desks at his high school. He spread out his notes, too.

 “Have you memorised the sections of the brain, yet?” Ruby asked.

 “Most of them,” Sam nodded. “I always have trouble with the bit that connects the hemispheres.”

 “The corpus callosum,” Ruby supplied without missing a beat. “What’s the name of the part of the brain involved in language comprehension?”

 “Wernicke’s area,” Sam answered. They continued quizzing each other until the professor came in.

 A few minutes after class started, another student shuffled in. There was an open spot next to Sam, who was close to the aisle. Sam offered it to him and after a moment’s deliberation, the student took it. He looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep, even though it was 4:30 pm.

Class went by quickly. Same waved to Ruby and the kid - well, he looked older than “kid” - as he left. But the student went the same direction and stepped into the same classroom. Come to think of it, Sam _had_ seen him there before.

 “Wanna sit with me?” he offered on a whim. The student - who had blond-brown hair and rich, golden eyes, looked up at him sharply.   
“Uh. Yeah, sure,” he said, taking the spot next to Sam.   
I’m Sam, by the way,” Sam said and stuck out his hand.   
“Gabriel.” They shook.   
“Pardon me if I’m wrong, but you seem a little ... young,” Gabriel said, eyeing him critically.   
“I’m a senior in high school,” Sam admitted.   
“Oh.”   
“And you seem a little ... old.” So much for tact.   
“I switched majors and had to scramble for some of my prerequisites. It’s a weird situation.”  
Sam nodded but didn’t pry further. Gabriel surrounded himself with his notes and pulled out a candy bar. He didn’t share.

 

* * *

 

 Sam wasn’t sure when the radio show began. So, that night as he started his homework, he left the radio on in the background tuned to 96.5. The light crackle of white noise was almost soothing when the volume was low enough.

 At around 10:30, the static stopped just as Sam shut his English reading assignment.

“Hel-lo lovely listeners,” The Trickster’s crooning voice crackled over the airwaves. “The Trickster here. Thought I’d start your Friday night off _right_. Ever heard of that old 90s movie Pump Up the Volume?” Dead air hung solidly for two, three, four, five seconds before an unfamiliar voice came on the speakers. Once it was over, The Trickster’s voice returned. “That was a special guest, name of Happy Harry Hard-On. Seriously, folks. Watch that movie. It’s from 1990 but it is fuckin’ _relevant_. Pump Up the Volume.”

 Sam took the notepad on his desk and scribbled down the title.

 “So next, for all  you lonely losers out there with nothing better to do with your Friday - before you mail your angry letters or dial me up whining, I’m included in that. Anyway, this one’s for you.” The low intro notes of The Killers’ Be Still filtered over the speaker.

 “As you can tell, I’m feeling a little melancholy tonight. So I got a do-gooder challenge for ya: go ahead, make someone’s day. Someone did somethin’ for me today. I’m putting this show on for you, so that’s my paying it forward quota for the foreseeable future.”

 Sam opened his psychology textbook to do the reading for his next class, tuning him out for a while.

 “How about something a little more upbeat to get us feeling better, huh?”

Sam wrinkled his nose when Houses of the Holy started playing. That was definitely Dean’s kind of music, not his.

 He finished his homework and looked at the clock. 11:45. The Trickster had been talking about getting away from his family, dropping out of school, and taking off for Europe. Sam wondered absently which country he would go to first. At half past midnight when the show went off the air, he realized that Azazel’s party would still be going full-force. He texted Ruby.

 >Wanna go to a party?

 The reply was almost immediate.

 <High school kids? Ech.

 Sam laughed.

 >It’s one of Azazel’s.

 <Pick me up in 15 minutes.

 Sam pulled on his jacket and tiptoed out into the house. He couldn’t risk taking Dean’s Impala, not with such a loud engine, but he could take his mom’s Civic. He pulled the keyring gently from the hook and clicked the door shut behind him. He parked in front of Ruby’s house exactly on time. She hopped in the passenger seat and glanced over expectantly.

Sam grinned back and hit the accelerator.

 

As Sam had predicted, the party was still in full swing. Ruby spotted some of her friends and went to see them. Andy was in a corner doing a kegstand. He still had the ridiculous sweater from earlier on. Sam made his way over to see that his friend was surrounded by college guys. The one with the scars framing his forehead glanced up and smirked. “You next?” he asked.

 “Nah,” Sam laughed. “Just making sure this idiot doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

 The guy chuckled and made his way to Sam. “I’m Luke,” he said. Sam shook his hand and smiled.

 “Sam. What are college guys doing at a high school party?” he asked.

 “My friends dragged me here. Something about the host. That, and he’s my cousin.”

 “You’re _that_ Luke?” Sam asked. Azazel spoke non-stop about him.

 “The one and only,” he grinned. He had to be at least five or six years older than a lot of the people here. He carried himself differently. And he was voluntarily talking to him, Sam Winchester, of all people. “So, you a senior?”

 “Yeah,” Sam breathed.

 “Planning on going to university?”

 Sam nodded.

 The rest of the evening went like that. Luke asked a lot of questions. Sam answered. Luke fetched him a beer. Sam drank it. Before he knew it, he was totally hammered, and then he groaned when he felt the keys jingle in his pocket. “Damn,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

 Luke tilted his head with concern. “What’s wrong?”

 “I drove here and this isn’t my car. These aren’t my keys. And I drove Ruby here, too... Shit.”

 Luke smiled warmly. “Have no fear. I’ve only had a couple and I’ve got my full licence. I’ll drive you guys home.”

 “Then where will you sleep?” Sam asked. “We have a couch, but my family might be a little... surprised to see someone they don’t know just hanging out in our living room when they get up.” He thought for a moment. “I _do_ have a couch in my room, too. If you needed it.”

 Luke laughed. “I did come here with people, you know. I wasn’t the designated driver, but I’m okay to drive. They can just follow me and pick me up from your place.”

 Sam blushed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have just assumed-”

 Luke put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It was a very kind offer, thank you.” He looked around. “I don’t think anyone wants to go home just yet, so you might as well have some fun while you’re at it.”

 Sam nodded and thanked him profusely. Luke just shrugged. Andy was nowhere to be seen, but Sam didn’t spend a lot of time looking around.

 “Why don’t we grab a seat?” Luke suggested. Sam acquiesced and followed him to an empty spot on the couch. It was a little cramped, but Sam was a little drunk and didn’t mind. He leaned toward Luke and listened to him tell some anecdote about a guy in one of his classes.

 

At the end of the night, Sam had learned almost nothing about Luke except that he was funny, really nice, and really generous. On the other hand, Sam had a feeling that Luke had learned everything about _him_ , what with all the questions he asked. At almost four am, Ruby tripped up to Sam and fell onto his lap. “I don’t need a ride,” she purred in his ear. “I’m stayin’ with some friends.”

 Sam grinned at her. “Alright,” he said, looking up into her beautiful brown eyes. He let his hands linger on her arm as she pulled away, smiling drunkenly. “Well, that’s one less person to worry about,” Sam informed Luke, who nodded in agreement.

 “Just you, then. You wanna head home now?”

 “Yeah,” Sam sighed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why the lights were swimming. “I’m getting kind of tired.”

 Luke stood and offered Sam his hand. Sam took it, grateful for the extra help for his balance. “Is that chick the only one you came here with?” he asked.

 Sam nodded.

 “Alright then, let’s go. Show me where you parked.”

 Before they made it outside, Sam handed Luke his keys. “The Civic over there,” he pointed out the door. Luke nodded and turned back toward his friend who had just come up to him. “Sorry, man, we’re not leaving just yet,” the guy was saying.

 Luke sighed and turned back to Sam. “Er, that couch offer still open?”

 Sam chuckled. “Yeah, of course,” he nodded. “We’ll just have to be quiet because my room’s on the second floor. But the stairs and hallway are carpeted, so...”

 They drove home in near silence. It was comfortable, though, and Sam leaned his head gratefully against the cool window.

 Luke pulled up quietly in the driveway at Sam’s direction. He handed the keys to Sam and they quietly entered the house. Sam put the keys back on the keyring and stood in the middle of the living room, listening for any sounds that would indicate that his family was awake. All was quiet.

 “It’s up here,” Sam stage-whispered, gesturing toward the stairs. Luke grinned and followed him up, tip-toeing and generally being more quiet than Sam and his stumbling.

 Once they reached his room, with the door shut behind them, Sam flicked on the light switch.

“Couch,” he said, pointing. “I’d offer to sleep on it instead, buuuut I’m just that much too big for it.” He made a gesture with his fingers. He grinned foolishly and made his way over to his bed, flopping down without climbing under the covers. The last thing he remembered was Luke laughing and turning out the light, shrouding the room in darkness and providing the perfect opportunity to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

Morning found an only-slightly-dehydrated Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes and groaning. Luke sat on the couch and flipped through one of Sam’s science magazines. He quirked an eyebrow when Sam muttered something incoherent.

 “Sorry, what was that?” he asked.

 “Said, thanks for takin’ care of me last night. Sorry I got, uh, hammered. You want a ride home?”

 Luke shrugged. “Not in any rush. It’s Saturday.”

 Sam contemplated this for a moment. “Yeah, it is. Uh, I guess I should introduce you to my family or something, let them know that you spent the night.”

 “I met your brother while going to take a piss this morning,” Luke commented. “He didn’t seem too pleased, but calmed down when I assured him that at least you weren’t behind the wheel or in a car with a drunk driver.”

 “Uh, did you see anyone... else?” Sam asked, hoping that his dad hadn’t seen Luke and flipped out.

 “Nah. Your brother - Dean, was it? - warned me about your parents. Don’t worry.”

 Sam stood up and looked around the room. His clock told him it was 11:30. “You stuck around this long?”

 “I was tired, and only woke up about fifteen minutes ago.”

 Sam accepted this with a nod. “Well... uh. Guess we should... get breakfast or something. I’m surprised I’m not hungover.”

 Luke raised his eyebrows. “Well, you seem to be able to hold your liquor pretty well. You had quite a few and you weren’t exactly falling down drunk, so.”

 Sam checked downstairs to see if the coast was clear before summoning Luke to follow him. His dad was probably at the garage working on the Impala with Dean, and his mother was off running errands. They had the house to themselves.

 They ate cereal because Sam decided he was too lazy to make bacon and eggs. He apologized profusely, but Luke just shrugged. “I’m a college kid. This is what I ate for a good three years before my girlfriend started cooking for me. I’m back on my own now, but she did teach me a thing or two.”

 Sam didn’t mention the off-handed remark; it was the most Luke had offered about himself, though, and that was a good thing.

 They ate in silence until Sam remembered Andy. “Shit!” he yelled, slapping his forehead.

Luke tilted his head, perplexed.

 “I told Andy we’d hang out today and play video games.”

 Luke shrugged. “Pick him up when you drop me off, then? He mentioned where he lived when we were talking to him before the keg stand. He’s not too far out of the way.”

 Sam pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. Then he glanced up at Luke. “Do you wanna take a shower or anything like that? Because you’re welcome, if you want.”

 About an hour later, after both of them had showered and in Sam’s case, had a change of clothes, they embarked on the journey to Luke’s place. He lived in the nicer part of town, Sam noted. Luke thanked him for the couch, Sam thanked him for being his designated driver, and they parted ways.

 Sam and Andy played video games for the rest of the afternoon, but Sam couldn’t keep his mind off of Luke and how... cool he was. Andy’s annoyance was clear when Sam wouldn’t shut up about him.

 That night, Sam tuned in to Twix FM but all he got was dead air.

  



	2. From Here on Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Sam grow closer, The Trickster decides to get interactive, and Andy has a personal crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [edgebug](http://edgebug.tumblr.com) and [tigercule](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tigercule), my lovely betas. I apologize in case there are weird formatting mistakes or seemingly missing text, the formatter decided to delete huge chunks and I did my best to make sure they were resolved. If not, please just let me know.

“Monday. Another weekend passed, another Saturday of recovering from Friday night, maybe playing video games, studying... if that’s your thing, _or,_ if you’re like me...” The Trickster chuckled. “Maybe you spent Saturday with your left hand.”

Sam chuckled. He had indeed been playing video games. And nursing Andy’s awful hangover. Not a lot of room for quality alone time, though.

“And now you’re back, nose to the grindstone, going to school, going to work, playing hooky and trying extra-hard not to get caught. So if you’ve got plans to skip out on tomorrow, this one’s for you.”

Lou Reed’s _Hooky Wooky_ began playing and Sam tapped his fingers along.

“And now I’m going to whine to you all about my asshole brothers. Because I just _know_ you all enjoy hearing about them.” The Trickster went off on a tirade about the latest fight between his brothers, how the oldest was so damn infuriating in his perfection and holier-than-thou attitude, and the other was everyone’s favourite even though he did stupid shit on a regular basis. At the end, he took a deep breath. “Well, fuck. Sorry. That went on a little more than I meant to. Kinda cathartic, though. But I don’t want to be the only one whining on the air. You losers should write in. I don’t exactly want to run the risk of a post office box, so I was thinking the internet. Email is overrated, so I... and _don’t you dare judge me_ … I made a Tumblr. But it’s not quite, uh...” He paused, sounding either nervous or excited, Sam couldn’t tell, “ready yet. I’ll give you the URL in a few days. But start formulating your thoughts now, because my uh, ‘ask box’ and submit buttons will be open for business. I’ll read some on the air and answer others on the blog, depending on how many I get. Because I’ve got no fuckin’ clue how many of you are listening.”

 _Count me in,_ Sam thought. Vaguely he wondered if anyone else he knew listened to The Trickster. Maybe he’d ask at school tomorrow.

Or maybe not. Because, while he knew he couldn’t be the _only_ one, he wanted this to be his little thing.

* * *

“Sam!”

Sam turned at the familiar sound of Ruby’s voice. He was making his way to Psychology when she caught up with him. “Hey!” He grinned. “What’s up?”

“Saw your tall, long-haired self and figured I’d invite your ass to a party. This weekend, my place, I’m having a few friends from some of my classes over.” It sounded less like an invite and more like a demand but Sam was okay with that.

“Just my ass? Can the rest of me come, too?”

Ruby patted his butt and smirked when he jumped.

“Guess so. Long as you behave.”

Sam blushed and slowed his stride so she could keep up. “Define ‘behave.’”

Ruby leaned in and dramatically whispered. “Don’t bring your high school friends.”

Sam followed her into the lecture hall and let his eyes wander over her petite figure. He blushed even harder when she caught him staring.

“Eyes up, front and center, big boy,” she chided, patting his chest and leering up at him.

Gabriel came in on time and took a vacant spot several seats away from Sam, but smiled in his general direction. It was tight, and was given in response to Sam’s, but hey.

“What’s with Gabriel?” Sam whispered to Ruby. “He seems really standoffish.”

Ruby shrugged. “Beats me. We went to high school together, actually, and he used to be really goofy and fun but I have no clue what happened between senior year and now. Something terrible that he doesn’t want to talk about, probably. So yeah. About the party. No other high schoolers, but you can bring that hot piece of ass you left with on Friday.”

“Luke?” Sam asked incredulously. “Uh, alright. Sure. I’ve got his number.”

“Did you ask, or did he offer it?”

“Uh, he offered it. Why?”

Ruby leaned forward, rapt. “What else did he say?”

“Um, he thought I was cool and that he prefers texting to calling?”

“Oh my god. For real?” Ruby’s eyes widened.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. “I sense a bit of hero worship or something going on here.”

“Oh,” Ruby said, “Trust me. You do. He’s a fucking _legend_.”

Huh. Sam was about to ask for more information when their professor called for class to begin.

After class, Ruby grabbed Sam’s arm before he could disappear. “Invite Luke,” she demanded, and then was gone.

The professor for Sam’s next class was late. Sam pulled out his cell phone and found Luke’s name in his contacts.

~ I’ve been told to invite you to Ruby’s party next weekend. Hope you’ve not got plans. 

Barely two minutes later, Sam’s screen lit up with a response.

~~Not anymore. I’ll be there.

Sam grinned to himself. Ruby would be ecstatic. Luke had actually cancelled plans for _her_ party. Sam sent a quick text to her.

~ He’s in. 

~~Fuck yeah!

So... you were gonna tell me why he’s a legend?

A story for another time, hot stuff.

* * *

Sam forgot to tune in that night. He and Luke were too busy talking about, well, everything. Sam got up the nerve to ask him personal questions. He found out that Luke was the second oldest in his family and six years older than Sam. He was working on his Bachelor’s, maybe even pursuing a Ph.D. He got a full-ride scholarship, much like Sam hoped to. And he had full faith that Sam would be successful, too. In addition to that, he had told Sam in no unclear terms: Stick with me, kid, and you’ll go places.

It neared midnight when Sam realized he had missed The Trickster that evening. He and Luke had reached a lull in their conversation; neither had responded for the past half hour. Then Sam’s phone buzzed thrice.

~~I know you wanna know about them.

~~The scars, I mean.

~~It’s okay if you ask.

Sam blinked and stared at the screen. He _had_ been wondering, but he wasn’t going to mention it.

~Don’t you think that’s a face-to-face kinda convo?

~~I think a lot of things we’ve talked about could fall under that category.

~Touche. Ok. Tell me about the scars.

Sam waited another half an hour. Finally he received three huge, very descriptive texts. He swallowed, because first of all: wow. Second: okay. Let it sink in. Thirdly: have a small freakout because Luke just told him something incredibly personal, probably far more personal than Sam could ever see himself being with someone he’d only just met. It took him ten minutes just to formulate his thoughts into a decent response, but at almost one in the morning, “decent” was relative. It contained a lot of the word “wow” and general conveyance of amazement and awe.

~~I find that it’s less awkward if my friends know what happened.

~~And don’t worry about being sensitive to the issue because it doesn’t bother me.

~Well, I’m glad we’re friends. I gotta sleep, though. Good night!

~~Sleep well, Sam :)

* * *

The next evening’s show opened with a song Sam recognized from the Back to the Future movies.

 _Gotta get back! In! Time!_ came the chorus of Back in Time by Huey Lewis and the News.

“Iiiit’s Wednesday, my friends!” The Trickster announced happily. “And I’m thinking, you know how some shows do Flashback Friday? I don’t want to be them. I want to have my misplaced, too-young-to-remember-that nostalgia on Wednesdays, dammit! Now I just need a name for this soon-to-be weekly feature. And you know who can help? You, that’s who.”

Sam quirked an eyebrow at his radio.

“Get your pens ready, my lovely losers, because the Official Blog of Twix FM - trademark pending - is live! My first choice usernames were taken, so you’ll find it instead at twixfmtrickster dot tumblr dot com.”

Sam scrawled that at the bottom of what had become his dedicated Twix FM notepad.

“So send me an ‘ask’ with name ideas for my nostalgia day and whatever the hell else you want to say. A response on the blog is guaranteed; a response on the show depends on the volume of messages I receive.”

Sam laughed at the clip of crickets chirping that played.

“But really. I’d love it. You can tell me your favourite nostalgic moment, too. And now, because Teen Wolf was playing on tv earlier and Michael J. Fox must hate being reminded of it all the time, The Guess Who with Clap for the Wolfman.”

Sam yawned. He had had a particularly stressful day and wanted to sleep soon, but his hopes were dashed when The Trickster announced that he had a lot to talk about, and it might be a few hours before he’s all talked out.

Somewhere between “school sucks” and “who knows if there will even be jobs for me when I graduate,” Sam climbed into bed.

And in the middle of the rant on, “My brother met someone and won’t shut up about them,” Sam fell asleep.

He awoke abruptly to the startlingly loud first chords of some rock song. When it was over, The Trickster announced the end of the countdown of his Top Five Favourite Bond Themes.

Sam groaned and rolled over to look at his clock: 2:47 am. He wondered what had taken so much goddamned _time_. Hell, it had been what, five or six hours? He threw an arm over his eyes and let The Trickster’s voice soothe him back to sleep.

Sam had forgotten to actually go look at the blog, so he opened it before heading to school. THere wasn’t much, not yet. He wondered if the lack of responses meant that no one had written in. He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. It would be decidedly not-awesome if The Trickster got disheartened and decided to go permanently off the air. Sam debated sending him a quick message before going to school, but decided he’d like to think about it when he was not in such a rush.

It was as a consequence of his absent-minded daydreaming that Andy got upset with him that morning.

“I’m trying to tell you something interesting in my life and you’re just standing there like a space cadet. Earth to Sam Winchester, come in, Sam Winchester!” he huffed and waved his hand in front of Sam’s face.

Sam blinked and shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, I’m listening. What were you saying?”

Andy frowned at him. “Everything alright, there, dude? You seem really distracted.”

“I was just thinking about something I heard on the radio last night, that’s all,” Sam responded guiltily. “What were you saying?” he repeated.

“I was _saying_ ,” Andy said irritably, “That I met a girl. We totally hit it off, and I think I’m going to ask her out.”

Sam hid his surprise. “Yeah? What’s her name?”

Andy kicked at the floor with his toe. “Her name’s Ava, she’s really really sweet. Really pretty. I... I can’t believe she even gave me the time of day, never mind had a whole conversation with me. But we like a lot of the same things - don’t give me that look! - and, well. Yeah. And she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

The first warning bell rang just then and Sam grinned. “Go for it!” he encouraged, taking off down the hall to his first class. “Good luck!” he called over his shoulder.

Not even ten minutes into class, Sam’s screen lit up with a message from Andy.

~~What if she says no?

~What if she says yes?

~~...you’re not helping

~Was I meant to be?

~~Pay attention to class u idiot

~You’re the one who texted me 

~~You’re the one who looked at your phone

Sam slammed his phone into his pocket when his teacher cleared her throat. “Mr. Winchester,” she said sternly. “Do we have a problem?”

“No, ma’am. No problem,” he said, discreetly slipping his phone into his backpack. She raised an eyebrow and turned back to the board. Sam had already done the reading for this class, and the only reason he was here at all was because it was mandatory. He pulled out a sheet of paper under the guise of taking notes and began to compose a letter to The Trickster.

 

Andy was still shaking come lunch break. “I don’t know, man, what if I misread everything and she doesn’t like me at all?”

Sam honest-to-God hit him in the shoulder. “Hey, now. Stop being a ninny. And don’t look at me like that, you know you’re being stupid. If you’re looking for a pep talk, just ask for one.”

Andy contemplated this momentarily. “I... guess, but.” He sighed. “Just... what do I do if she says no?”

“Then you pick your sorry ass up from the ground, dust yourself off, and move forward like the rest of us do.” Sam chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that advice is going to come back one day and bite me in the butt,” he added in a quiet afterthought.

In third period Sam had a study block in the library. The library had computers, which he utilized for non-studious purposes. Since he was already a model student, he figured that if the librarian caught him, she’d be lenient on him for being a first-time offender. Hell, she’d probably ignore him in favour of the irritating eighth graders being far too rambunctious in the corner.

He glanced around to make sure no one was looking at him, suddenly self conscious. As he typed up the scrawled words on the paper in front of him, his mind wandered to the upcoming radio show that evening. And if you asked him, he would vehemently deny hoping against hope that The Trickster would read his letter on the air.

* * *

“This is The Tricksterrr,” came the familiar voice over the airwaves. “And I gotta say, you guys. I’m actually impressed. I had no idea there were so many of you out there... man oh man. I actually got a _ton_ of responses from you all. Really, I’m touched.

“So I’ll just read a couple of them, here... let’s see.

Here’s one from “Roxy,” she said...

_Hi Trickster! I listen to your station every day, I absolutely love it! You and I share the same music taste, so what about some Rush? You're amazing!_

“No, Roxy, _you_ are amazing! Thanks so much for listening to the show. Ah, Rush. A most excellent choice, I have to say. So then, without further adieu, _Limelight_.”

Sam grinned when the first chords played. Dean wasn’t so fond of Rush, so of course Sam had once upon a time taken it upon himself to get really into them. This song was among his favourites.

His heart pounded when the song finished and The Trickster read the opening words of the next letter - his letter.

_Dear Trickster,_

_I accidentally found your show a little while ago and I just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for being there every night (except weekends, as I discovered), thanks for understanding the situation I’m in even if you don’t know, and thanks for letting loose and being yourself on the air. Sometimes your music sucks, but I think I can forgive you for that._

_Stay cool,_

_DemonKid._

_PS: You should play some songs by this band called Louden Swain. I have the feeling you’d like them._

“Well, DemonKid. You’re quite welcome. I’ve actually heard of Louden Swain before, believe or not. Got a friend who goes to as many shows as he can. You, however, have just earned yourself some cool points because no one else I’ve talked to knows who they are.

“I hope to be on the air for a good long time to come so I hope you keep listening and keep writing in!” And just because you asked, I do in fact have some of their songs. Here’s _Eskimo_.”

Sam tapped his fingers along to the bouncy chords of the song and smiled as he closed his textbook. Maybe, for once, studying could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twixfmtrickster](http://twixfmtrickster.tumblr.com) is a blog that exists. You can send in-character or as-yourself messages to The Trickster - they'll either be answered on the blog or included in the story.

**Author's Note:**

> (Apologies for the formatting, fighting with AO3's text editor is an ongoing struggle)


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